


Smile

by dragonsong (NekoAisu)



Series: FFXIV Write 2019 [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Canonical Character Death, Dark Knight Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, Gender-Neutral Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Other, Patch 3.0: Heavensward Spoilers, Period-Typical Homophobia, the Heavens Ward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 22:08:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20571683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoAisu/pseuds/dragonsong
Summary: “Join me in hell, Ser. It’s a good fit for men like you.”





	Smile

**Author's Note:**

> For FFXIVWrite 2019!
> 
> Day 4 | Shifting Blame
> 
> Tumblr post here: https://ffxivimagines.tumblr.com/post/187516828024/ffxivwrite-2019-prompt-4-smile

Ser Zephirin de Valhourdin considers himself to be a paragon of Halonic devotion, second to the Archbishop alone. 

He does not see Haurchefant, bastard son of Count Edmont de Fortemps and known sodomite, to be any devotee worth guiding. He prays on Sundays and comes to confession regularly, never late and always appropriately reverent. His presence within Her halls should be of no issue with his behavior being what it is. 

But there is one glaringly large issue Ser Zephirin cannot overlook: that being his blatant affection for a known blasphemer and black sheep within Halone’s flock, the Warrior of Light. Them being a ward of House Fortemps makes it difficult to take them in for questioning without reason enough to take the bastard son himself. It’s a problem, but nothing prayer cannot solve. Halone knows his heart and will deliver him from trials of the mortal world with Her blessing. 

He waits for months on end, hearing that the fourth son of House Haillenarte is accused of heresy, and sees it as an opportunity to further his plans. 

_Joacin Charlemend Francel de Haillenarte, untalented and unremarkable save for his well-known compassionate nature. How droll. _

Francel is an upstanding young man and hard to frame without some manner of dissention, but past some murmurs and the enlistment of a promising new inquisitor, the deed is done and all that’s left to do is wait for House Haillenarte to lose another son. He listens to the quiet gossip exchanged by the older members of the clergy for weeks only to be disappointed.

Francel’s innocence was proven true and the inquisitor shown to be a heretic wearing the identity of a man sworn to Her service. 

_Disgusting. _

He tries again, this time with the Warrior’s hapless little friends, and is only led to another disparate result from what he intended. They prove innocence via trial by combat, fight for Ishgard like a good and devout conscript, and then all but storm the Vault to save the Lord Commander. By the time he can wear the Archbishop’s blessing like a mantle, he no longer need stay the path. He can rid the world of such heretical behaviors as affection for someone of the same gender. 

Halone has no need of false knights who place their desire over Her scripture. 

He feels no remorse when aether thrums like a lance within his grasp, nor when he watches it shatter the steel of Haurchefant’s shield. He is doing the world a service, he thinks, to remove such a wretched being from the living. 

The Warrior of Light does not agree. Not when they shatter his breastplate to flatten a hand to his chest and_ shove, _aether coalescing and burning slowly through his chainmail in threat. 

“Repent,” they demand.

He does not. 

They smile and it’s a furious thing. “I am sure Halone will forgive me for this, then.” They flatten their palm directly to his chest and wait until he _wails, _demanding, _“Repent.”_

Zephirin just heaves for breath and waits for them to lose patience, wondering how his godhood could be brought low so effortlessly. They do not say aught else and instead sigh, draw their sword─a monstrosity of metal and old blood─and pin him to the floor of the Singularity Reactor. Before he breathes his last, Zephirin can swear he sees red eyes flashing from over their shoulder, a spectral hand wrapping around theirs on the hilt. 

_“Join me in hell, Ser. It’s a good fit for men like you.”_

**Author's Note:**

> hmu for that sweet, sweet zephirin-smacking content  
xiv tunglr | https://ffxivimagines.tumblr.com/  
main | https://kiriami-sama.tumblr.com/  
main | https://twitter.com/flamingacekiri


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